


Late Home Tonight

by sidewinder



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13031883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: Fin appreciates the comforts of home, and the love that keeps him going.





	Late Home Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ApexOnHigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApexOnHigh/gifts).



> This story takes place not long before the opening episode of season 18, "Terrorized".

Fin felt every one of his fifty-four years as he trudged up the old brownstone’s staircase, relieved to be home at last. 

 _Still think we shoulda gone for that new high rise in Williamsburg…the one with an elevator_. Though he then remembered the endless arguments with his husband over finding a new place for them to share when John’s old apartment in Washington Heights had become unlivable due to landlord neglect and jacked-up rents.

Oh no, John wanted a place with “character”, in a neighborhood that still felt like one. A place with tree-lined streets and kids who played out on the sidewalks after school. (As if that actually were a thing in this day and age, and they weren’t all indoors on their phones and tablets). John hadn’t cared if that meant being on the third floor of a century-old walk-up. They did, at least, have the entire top floor to themselves, complete with a small roof deck to enjoy the not-quite-so-stellar views of Queens and Brooklyn around them.

It was homey, even if Fin sometimes cursed these creaky old stairs (but never so much as the day they’d had to move John’s books, and his own entertainment center.)

Fin hadn’t meant to stay at the precinct so late tonight. In fact he’d hoped to stop over to visit Ken and Alejandro briefly after work, see how they were making out with their own new apartment. They’d moved in over the summer after a long hunt for a bigger yet still affordable place for their soon-arriving baby boy. But today it had been one thing after another at the 16th. And being short-staffed meant they were all pulling extra hours, or else face Chief Dodds’ wrath. Next thing Fin had known it was after ten o’clock and, looking around, he had found himself and Carisi the last two left in the squad room.

 _“Go home, Fin,”_ Carisi had urged him. _“I’ll finish up here, you look like you need the rest.”_

 _“Damn straight on that,”_ Fin had agreed, rubbing his stiff neck. _“Just don’t stay here all night working. You need some rest, too.”_

_“I’ll rest when the lieu gets back.”_

Fin hoped they _all_ could catch a break when that happened. He didn’t begrudge Olivia the vacation time, and she had waited until the end of the summer, when things had calmed down _slightly_ in the aftermath of Mike’s death, to take it _._ But he had to admit to some frustration over her unexpectedly extending the trip with Tucker and Noah, even if she did have the time coming to her.

The old Olivia Benson hardly ever took any personal days. She usually had to be kicked off the job for a week here or there when the captain insisted. Same as it used to be for all of them.

But right now, those days seemed a lifetime ago.

Unlocking the apartment door (an effort in itself thanks to the old and stubborn lock), Fin stepped inside and took a curious sniff of the air. That immediately set his stomach grumbling even if it was growing close to midnight.

“Somethin’ smells good,” he called, leaving his shoes by the entry on the well-worn hardwood floor. He found John sprawled out on the sofa in an old t-shirt and black lounge pants, reading in the soft light of the desk lamp beside him.

“You didn’t eat?” John asked. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Totally forgot to, until now. Didn’t have time.”

“Sit. Relax.” John sat up and gave Fin a light caress on the back as he sunk into the soft leather, followed by a kiss on his cheek. “I kept a plate ready for you just in case. Only need to warm it up for a minute.”

“What’d you make?”

“That Mexican meatloaf that you always rave about, with some mashed potatoes. Though I went easy on the jalapeños this time, so we could _both_ get some sleep tonight.”

Fin snorted. “Either way, sounds damn good.” 

“Be right out.” John got up and went to the kitchen while Fin tried to relax enough to enjoy what was left of the evening—but not relax to the degree that he immediately crashed and fell asleep. The television was on, but at a low volume that simply provided background noise. That was fine; Fin didn’t need to hear anything more about the news of the day.

One of the unexpected benefits of John’s retirement from SVU was the extra time he had since put into cooking for the two of them, now that he _had_ the time to do so. Home-cooked meals were a welcome change of pace from living on take-out and restaurant food for years, an appreciated comfort at the close of a long day. And it was not so much a new skill as a rediscovered one, or so John claimed. 

_“Used to have to help out in the kitchen at the Waterfront some nights when we were short-staffed…learned a few great recipes from Meldrick’s aunt after we hired her to be our head chef. A little bit of Charm City soul to add to the repertoire.”_

“So how was the war zone today?” John called from the kitchen as the microwave whirred to life.

“You don’t wanna know.” Last Wednesday Chief Dodds had blown up in a rage, storming out when he learned Benson wouldn’t be back from France for another week. The chief hadn’t shown his face again at the 16th until late Friday afternoon, not necessarily contrite but subdued in a way that was almost more frightening than when he was his typical boorish self.

The microwave beeped, and a few seconds later John came out with a plate, napkins and silverware. He put them down on the coffee table in front of Fin and asked, “Water? Beer?”

“No, you sit down now. Stop fussing over me.”

“But I enjoy fussing over you,” John teased, settling back down on to the sofa and giving Fin a wry smile. Fin had to smile back before attacking his dinner; everything seemed a little—no, a _lot_ —better now that he was home and with his husband. 

He _did_ still missing their working side-by-side, he couldn’t deny it. Though he understood why John had needed to step away even before mandatory retirement pushed him out the door. And right now Fin was most thankful for the warm meal filling his belly, and the creature comforts of this home built together out of love and trust, mutual understanding and maturity. He scooped up a spoonful of gravy-soaked mashed potatoes and let out a small burp of satisfaction, which earned him a nudge in the side from a bare foot.

“Manners,” John chided.

“Yeah, look at you, poking me with them icy toes while I’m tryin’ to eat.” But he let John stretch his legs out behind him on the sofa as he finished his meal, and finally took a glance at the ‘Collected Works’ volume John had been reading that now lay on the sofa beside him. “Dylan Thomas, huh? Kinda deep reading for a late night.”

“I was in a mood, I suppose.”

John’s tone of voice gave Fin slight pause. After this many years he could pick up on those subtle things, and he looked to his husband curiously, wondering if he’d receive any further explanation. But John merely shrugged and remained tight-lipped; if there was something on his mind tonight he wasn’t about to share it, and Fin didn’t want to push.

In short time they were both ready to call it an evening, too tired and too late for much more conversation or catching up on affairs. Fin got prepared for bed as John finished cleaning up in the kitchen. 

“Cool enough to sleep with the windows open again,” Fin said as he slipped into bed. 

“As long as I’ve got you to keep my icy toes warm.”

“Always,” Fin murmured softly before echoing his promise with a soft kiss. He wished he wasn’t quite so tired; the feeling of John’s skin under his hands stirring familiar desires to life. But his eyes were heavy and his body too weary for more than cuddling and caresses. Maybe he’d be up for some friskier business in the morning after catching some rest. 

“You set the alarm?” John asked, clearly on a similar wavelength.

“Mm hmm. Feel like I could sleep the sleep of the dead tonight.” 

“Ah, but what did Dylan Thomas say?”

“Dunno, too tired right now,” Fin said with a yawn. “You tell me.”

“ _Do not go gentle into that good night, old age should burn and rage at close of day; rage, rage against the dying of the light._ ”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“You do that. But sleep now, love. You’ve earned it.”

 


End file.
